Dear Algorithm,
We Need to Talk.

You and I have been in a relationship for a while now. I give you my clicks, my scrolls, my late-night searches for boots and bookcases. In return, you’re supposed to get to know me.

But lately?
You’ve been getting a little too familiar… and somehow still wildly wrong.

Exhibit A: BBW Cupid

You slid into my feed whispering:
“Looking for a man who will accept you just the way you are?”

Sir.
Ma’am.
Binary-system of baloney.

Why are you talking to me like I just admitted my darkest insecurity into your algorithmic confessional?

You’re not uplifting me.
You’re patting me on the head.

“Oh sweetheart, don’t worry, someone will love you.”

Women don’t need pity served in a stock-photo romance wrapper. We need honesty. We need respect. We need you to stop acting like we’re projects, not people.

Exhibit B: WooPlus Gym-Bro Energy

Then came the lumbering wall of muscle proclaiming:
“Dear plus size girls… You are appreciated by gym bros.”

Appreciated.
APPRECIATED???

Algorithm, be serious.

This man looks like he drinks creatine like communion wine and benches jet skis recreationally. He has never once in his life typed the phrase “plus size.”

But you want me to believe he’s waiting to sweep me off my curvy feet?

No.
Stop it.
Be so for real.

Exhibit C: The Copy-Paste Casanova

This morning — the SAME day I wrote about false advertising — you delivered a message from a man 900 miles away who:

• speaks in Victorian run-on sentences
• wants to “use me as a model of beauty”
• and sounds like ChatGPT’s Renaissance-fair cousin

Even Chapter 2 went:
“We will investigate this and he sounds beyond creepy.”

When the dating site itself is concerned? That’s when you KNOW.

---

Here’s the part I need you to hear, Algorithm:

These ads… they don’t hurt because I’m lonely.
They don’t land because I’m insecure.
They don’t sting because I think I’m unlovable.

They hurt because they treat plus-size women like we need special permission to hope.

Like we need reassurance.
Like we should be grateful.
Like love is something available —
but only if we accept a pity narrative wrapped in fake empowerment.

You take the most vulnerable demographic — women who have survived loss, divorce, trauma, disappointment — and you sell them a fantasy rooted in condescension, not connection.

You dress it up in Hallmark cinematography:
Thin pretty girl = mean.
Curvy bakery owner = warms the lumberjack’s heart.
Roll credits.

But real life isn’t a Christmas movie.
And curvy women are not consolation prizes.

---

So listen closely, Algorithm:

I am a plus-size woman.
I know who I am.
I know what I offer.

I don’t need your curated pity campaigns.
I don’t need validation from an ad.
And I certainly don’t need fake “appreciation” from a gym bro.

If a man wants me, he will want me — my mind, my humor, my history, my heart — not because an app “targets” me, but because I’m worth targeting on my own merits.

And so are millions of other women who deserve real love, real honesty, and real dignity.

You don’t get to define our worth.
You don’t get to diagnose our loneliness.
You don’t get to prey on our scars.

So knock it off.
Do better.

Signed,
A woman who is
Too wise for ghosting,
Too tired for games,
And way, WAY too caffeinated for your nonsense today.

— Menopause & Malarkey 🔥💙

What about you?
Have you gotten an ad that made you say, “EXCUSE ME, ALGORITHM??”
Drop it in the comments — this is a safe space, and your stories deserve to be heard (and laughed about).

© 2025 Heather Nicole Kight – Menopause & Malarkey. All rights reserved … including the right to know my worth.